


Scalpels

by twistedwriter101



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:11:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedwriter101/pseuds/twistedwriter101
Summary: "We are warriors, we are scalpels, sent to cut out the enemy's heart."  -Proxima Midnight, The Black Order Vol. 2A collection of one-shots, AUs, and other such drabbles, set in both the MCU and Earth-616 universes, focused on Corvus and Proxima, with tidbits of the rest of the Black Order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm not sure when exactly it happened but damn, I went down the rabbit hole and fell in love with the Black Order, Proxima in particular. So I figured I should shoot my shot at contributing to the Corvus/Proxima ship. I lurk a bit on Tumblr, so big shout out to the Black Order fandom over there for inspiring me, even if I watch quietly from the sidelines :) 
> 
> The MCU and Earth-616 aren't exactly the same, but we got so little background (and overall content/characterization) on the Black Order in Infinity War and Endgame that I think merging the two is inevitable. That is to say, to write any of the Black Order in MCU settings will inevitably be influenced by their appearances in the comics.
> 
> First up, a little more focus on Corvus and Proxima before, during, and after the fight with Wanda, Vision, and company during Avengers: Infinity War.

_MCU, during Infinity War_

“Welcome to Terra, my love.”

Proxima cocked her head to the side, eyes scanning the surface of the planet below through their ship’s windows. The lights of the nearby city were blurred by the heavy rain. The sharp _tap-tap_ of her husband’s footfalls stopped as he reached her, the metallic floor echoing slightly. She could feel his warmth, rolling off his body in waves. “It’s raining.”

“Perhaps it will cease before we have to head down.”

Arching a brow, she turned to fully face Corvus. “I doubt that.”

He reached out to her cheek, careful to turn his armored claws outward as he caressed her, tracing up the scar from her lips, following the curve of her horn, and finally tucking away a stray piece of cobalt hair. Her flesh prickled, and she leaned into the unnaturally warm metal covering his hand. The corner of Proxima’s lips quirked upwards as she met his eyes.

_BEEP!_

Both of their heads snapped to the console of the ship. The moment broken, Proxima synced her wristband to the coordinates on the computer screen, initiating the tracking sequence as they closed in on the stone’s location.

“Put your cloak on husband, it seems we have our mark.”

\-----------

The rain let up as they trekked further into the city, Edinburgh according to their maps. Despite the chilly weather and lateness of night, they kept to the shadows, favoring rooftops over the empty streets. Rounding a corner, Proxima’s wristband thrummed sharply against her skin. Throwing up her hand, Corvus stopped behind her. She pivoted to face him. His eyes glowed in sharp relief of the shadows cast over his face.

“What are they?”

Proxima sucked in her breath, pressing her back further into the wet stone wall even though their targets were clearly on the other side and below them. She glanced to her right and could almost see the thoughts racing through Corvus’ head, every angle of attack, every possible outcome. His brow furrowed slightly, his mouth settled into a frown, and his molten eyes stared off at some unknown point in space. Watching Corvus work, watching her husband do what he was the best in the galaxy at, at strategizing, at leading and conquering, was rapture. A moment later, she broke her own brief reverie and tapped a finger gently against the blunt side of the glaive fragment framing his head.

“Do you have a plan?” She had leaned in so close to him that she could feel his breath on her cheek, the need for quiet communication ever present. _Being married certainly makes these moments easier_ , she thought wryly.

“I will take the stonekeeper, my glaive should pierce his shell easily. Blast the witch away. We cannot let her interfere,” Corvus breathed, lips against her horn, just above her ear.

Footage of the robot and witch had been hard to find. Despite the failure the Asgardian god had wrought in New York, the battle had provided a deluge of information on the ragtag group of Terran defenders. But this pair was newer, their battles not broadcast as widely, their fighting styles not as easily analyzed. The robot and the witch were largely unknown enemies, making a successful ambush all the more vital.

Proxima nodded her assent.

“…then maybe going isn’t the best idea.”

And then, with one last glance at each other, they split, creeping to opposite sides of the old stone building before leaping to the ground below.

\-----------

She couldn’t say the blast that the red witch had thrown at her was notably painful, but she wasn’t expecting it, and it socked her in the stomach, taking the breath out of her with ease. The cobblestone bit into her body with each roll, battering her around until she flopped onto her stomach beside Corvus.

She wheezed ( _pitiful_ , her mind supplied), her lungs were trying to bring in air but they weren’t and there was so much air but she got none of it and her eyes were watering and-

“Midnight?”

And then he was there.

Corvus was helping her stand upright, the wind which had been knocked out of her slowly coming back in. His hand had once again found her face, and she leaned deeply into his palm as he steadied her.

“Ready?”

\-----------

She didn’t know where three more enemies had come from, but she knew that Corvus had all of them on him as she crashed through the cheap wooden tables and chairs. An unholy sounding snarl ripped through her as she saw the blonde woman fighting with _her_ spear. The snarl bubbled up and was let loose as a full-throated yell as she watched Corvus collapse in pain. Proxima called her spear back to her ( _mine, you wench_ ), relishing the surprise in the other woman’s eye. And then the man, the captain from years ago, was there, Corvus’ glaive in his hand. He blocked the deathblow meant for the blonde woman, and Proxima let up ever so slightly, instinctively worried about breaking the glaive as the metals creaked and groaned in protest.

And then there was war.

And she parried and thrust and slashed and blocked, forcing her two opponents on defense and the other two were against the railings and _where was_ -

_WHAM!_

She grunted in pain as the strange winged man knocked her off of her feet.

Every nerve in her body screamed to get back up and fight, but she felt Corvus behind her, still on the ground. _Why is he not getting up?_

So she scrambled, like a Hurr on all fours, shielding her body over his as though she was the one with immortality.

“Get up!”

“I can’t.” Whatever else he wanted to say was caught in a growl in his throat.

\-----------

They landed hard on the floor of the ship, his glaive and her spear clattering loudly onto the floor beside them. 

She frantically grasped at the hole in his stomach. Tears started to stream down her cheeks as she realized why he was so slow to heal on the surface of the planet – it wasn’t a normal stab wound.

He was gutted with the force of a star.

His chest had stopped rising.

And even though she knew he would be back ( _he always comes back, always_ ), there was a profound and sharp pain in her heart because this time he died because of _her_.

Angrily swiping the tears away from her face, she stood slowly. With heavy steps, she lugged his body to their bed, pulling off his ratty, torn cloak before laying him down.

With one last look at her husband, his chest not yet rising with breath though she could see his flesh twitching as it started to mend, she moved to their shower unit.

\-----------

Proxima stood under the flow of hot water until it cooled. With a sigh, she turned the shower off, running her hands through her hair and over her horns. A soft rustling sound caught her attention. Snatching her towel, she wrapped it around her body before making her way back to the bed, a trail of water dripping behind her as she prowled out of the bathroom unit.

Corvus had shifted in his sleep, not yet awake but clearly back in the land of the living.

She backtracked to wipe up the stray water that followed her from the shower before turning her attention to the slumbering form of her husband. Gently climbing onto the bed, she poked at and inspected his wound, pleased to see that it was essentially nonexistent, the only evidence of it ever having happened being his shredded armor.

She methodically began to remove the pieces of his armor, careful not to wake him. Each piece removed revealed the long, lanky form of the man she loved most. His body was taut with sinewy muscles, limber and powerful, a complete antithesis to his brother and the master they followed. Where Thanos and Cull were swollen, hulking masses of power, Corvus was wiry and quick. _Not that it makes him any less deadly_.

When he was finally disrobed, she traced down the lines of the glaive pieces bonded to his head. Aware that an errant twitch could slice her finger open, she moved her feather-light exploration to his face, feeling the leathery skin under her hand.

He stirred as she leaned over him, and she quickly withdrew.

“Wife… my love.” He muttered, eyes still closed.

Her eyes danced, and she laid down to snuggle tight against his side, immediately comforted by the skin-to-skin contact, pulling the light blanket over them.

\-----------

Proxima woke shortly after she had dozed off, her personal space warmer gone from his spot in bed. She blearily sat up, hand grasping at the divot left in the mattress where he had lay.

“Corvus?”

“Just a drink, my dear.”

Her throat tightened uncomfortably, a foreign feeling for the ever confident warrior.

Corvus strolled back into the room, as naked as the day he was born. The teasing grin he had been wearing faded as he took in the stormy expression on Proxima’s face.

“What bothers you, Midnight?”

“It is my fault that we lost, Corvus. I was foolish enough to lose my spear, and my mistake cost you your life!” Her voice had raised throughout her speech, ending in a raw, hoarse yell.

Corvus edged closer to the bed, approaching his wife as if she was a cornered animal. Her chest was heaving with emotion, an uncharacteristic sight. Midnight was always deliberate, calculated, confident. She rarely lost control of herself.

Finally he was close enough to grasp at her hand, its cold metal meeting his warmth.

“No, my love, we win as a team, we lose as a team. You cannot blame yourself.”

He reclaimed his spot on the bed, eyes still drawn on his wife. Her eyes were downcast, resolutely looking at anything but him. A swell of anger rose up in him. But not at her, never at her. Irritated that those mettlesome Terrans had caused her to fall into this funk. A low growl clicked through his throat as he pulled her chin towards him, too forcefully to be gentle but never enough to hurt her.

“Do not think long on it. We will have another battle, another chance, very shortly, I can feel it.”

And before she had a chance to respond, he captured her mouth with his own.

He pulled her over to him, and she obligingly straddled his lap.

\-----------

He rolled them over, and her legs instantly tightened around his waist like a vice, her arms looped around his neck as she clung to him. His thrusts were long and slow, savoring each inch, as she quietly mewled into his ear.

They were tired, the ache of battle worn down to their bones, but her body welcomed him just as easily as it had every time for the past hundreds of years.

And as he began to build his pace, release inching ever closer, as he reached down between them to stroke her and bring her over the edge with him, he could only think that they needed this, despite the exhaustion that muted their generally enthusiastic couplings.

They needed this.

They needed each other, and for some reason it had never felt more obvious, more piercing, than tonight.

\-----------

Corvus gently traced his claw down Proxima’s spine, relishing the trail of bumps that followed his touch.

“Feel better, my love?”

He watched her as she exhaled deeply before rolling over to face him.

“Much.” She scooted closer to him, seeking his warmth, throwing her arm haphazardly over his torso, lazily intertwining her leg through his. “We should rest. I’m sure we will have marching orders soon, Thanos will not want to wait... And I will kill that witch when we next meet, even if I must do it with my bare hands.”

“I have no doubt, my lady Midnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things from various Marvel sources that helped with this chapter:
> 
> -The obvious: Corvus is immortal so long as his glaive is intact. And I gave Proxima's spear its full power range from the comics.
> 
> -Even though Corvus is effectively immortal, Proxima has a tendency to freak out whenever he dies. That said, she particularly freaks the f*ck out in their original Infinity run when it’s her deflected attack that offs Corvus. A little bit more subdued when it's someone else's fault (looking at you, Rogue).
> 
> -No idea what a Hurr is but Proxima pokes fun at Corvus with said comparison in the comics.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Proxima and Corvus survived the battle in Wakanda?
> 
> Consider it a potential fix-it since the MCU completely ignored the whole “if the glaive is intact, Corvus will regenerate” situation. More Nebula than anticipated, but hey, it is what it is.
> 
> See below for other tidbits.

Proxima flailed helplessly as she felt herself being lifted into the Thresher machine, the whirring of the blades drowning out her scream. She felt the metal tear into her back and side, shredding her armor like it was paper. The pain was searing, and she could only think that this would be an intense yet quick way to go, could only think of Corvus—

And then she was on the ground, razor sharp blades spitting her out as the Thresher violently redirected towards a horde of troops.

She felt light as air, and Corvus, that the bits falling out of her were oddly shining, and Corvus, that the dusty ground was strangely wet, and Corvus, and what a strange hell she was in—

And then she realized she was staring at her own organs in a pool of her own navy blood and—

_Corvus, my love._

\-------

_22 Days Later_

After her moment of mourning with Rocket and ensuring that Stark was cared for after his outburst, Nebula approached the ragtag group and dared to ask about her biggest concern, second to only Thanos himself.

“What happened to the rest of the Black Order?”

“The who now?”

“Glaive and Proxima and Cull.”

“Yeah… not ringing a bell.”

Nebula seethed inside, exploding, “The Children of Thanos, whatever the hell you called them, the ones every planet knows of except for you, _the people who were clearly leading the ‘space dogs’_!”

“Oh, your… siblings?” The woman called Natasha asked, eyebrow arched, unfazed by her outburst.

Nebula bristled and then scoffed. “No. Gamora is my only sibling. The Children of Thanos are not his actual children. The Black Order are the generals of Thanos. Stark,” she waved a hand towards his room, “told me his group managed to get rid of the Maw. But the three others came to Earth.”

The man with curly hair raised his hand and waved. “I blew the giant rock guy up!”

“And Wanda threw the blue lady into one of those giant shredder machines, but we found her on the field afterwards. She looked like someone did an autopsy on her, but she was breathing. She’s in a secure unit in the medical lab now, not that she’s woken up yet.”

“Vision stabbed the goblin with his blade… we didn’t find his body. Assumed he dusted.”

Nebula said nothing, willing the Captain to continue. He didn’t.

“And his blade? Did you recover his weapon?”

The Captain shared a glance with Natasha. “No… he’s dead, so it’s somewhere on the battlefield in Wakanda, I suppose. Didn’t we just cover that?”

Nebula felt a shock go through her system, something that caused her lungs to seize briefly in their metal cage. But then she realized that these Terrans wouldn’t have anything like Corvus or Proxima on their planet. They didn’t know that someone could be immortal in the way Glaive was, or that it was possible to survive everything from stabs to atmospheric entries if you were Midnight. And they hadn’t even heard of Thanos, let alone his generals. They had no urgency because they had no fear, they thought the worst was already over.

“You need to show me where you slayed him, right now. We need to find that glaive.”

“Listen ma’am, I appreciate you helping us out and helping Tony. But I’m sure this can wait until morning, once we’ve all rested and regrouped.”

“No, I’m not sure it can.” All heads swiveled to their newest arrival, and Nebula was glad to have another cosmic traveler in the room. Even if it was Captain Marvel.

“No offense, but you guys didn’t even know Thanos existed until he knocked down your door. But those of us out there, we’ve heard stories. I’ve seen the aftermath of their culls. These guys are even worse than their name. We need to be sure that all of our checks are marked, even if it is just a fancy big knife.”

Nebula gave her a slight nod of thanks.

“Alright then, Nat, Rhodey and I will go with Nebula to Wakanda. Rocket, Danvers, you know space better than us, start brainstorming how we locate Thanos.”

\-------

They arrived in Wakanda by early morning. Even though three weeks had past, the sudden halving of the already war torn city meant the remnants of battle were still strewn about. Rubble, broken and abandoned weapons, the metal from Thanos’ contraptions and ships riddled the field. What remained of the Wakandan warriors were working to burn away the last of the Outrider carcasses.

Combing their way through the trees, the group quickly found where Thanos had snapped, the ruts in the earth from his moment with Thor still present.

“It was close to here. We were decently far from the rest of the battle.” Steve gestured around him. The three spread out, searching through the foliage for the shining gold blade Nebula had described.

“Hey, over here!”

Natasha was crouched over the silver husk of Vision’s body. She looked up at Steve and Nebula, a frown plastered on her face. “How did they miss him… Never mind. So it should be around here then?”

Steve nodded, and Nebula a strange twinge in the metal encasing her synaptic drive.

“Something’s not right, it should be-”

The next thing she felt was a heavy body tackling her down, her head smashing against a rock. As her line of sight spotted with black dots, she saw a familiar glint of gold swiping towards Steve and Natasha. Grunting with effort, she smacked her metal hand against the panel on her head, knocking her drive back into place. With a yell, she unsheathed her baton and charged towards the fight.

\-------

Corvus grimaced as he awoke. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes fluttering closed against his will. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up until he was sitting against the wall behind him. Further inspection found his glaive, contained in a unit across the room. His vision was blurry, but he would know that gold sheen anywhere.

And he was in a cell.

Blue flickered into his peripheral vision, but it was not the shade of blue he longed to see. He growled in the back of his throat as he recognized Nebula.

“So that’s what happens when you’re impaled by your own glaive.” She glanced at his chest, where a thin line of crimson leaked, a shallow remnant of his wound that had broken open during their fight. He scoffed at her, even though she had a point. The only time it had taken him this long time to heal was when he had to reform an entire body.

Nebula smirked in response.

He had nothing to answer with. The desire he once would have had to wipe the smirk off of her face was gone, as dead as… _No, don’t think of it_.

\-------

“Thanos left you there to rot. So much for that undying loyalty.”

It had been three days since he was hauled into his cell. His only visitor had been Nebula, and she had taken to alternating between taunting him and pleading her anti-Thanos case.

The cybernetic woman sighed as she leaned against the wall. “He has all of the stones, you know. He could have brought you all back. The Maw, Cull, Proxima.” She exhaled sharply through her nose. “I wish you could see what Gamora saw, what I finally saw.”

He still did not speak.

\-------

“Is there any chance of making any progress with this guy?”

Nebula glanced at Banner. “Until Rocket’s tracking algorithm gets a hit, he’s our best bet for finding my father.”

“Yeah, but why would he betray him? What could possibly motivate him to cross the line the way you did?” Natasha wondered aloud, throwing her hands in the air.

“His wife.”

“His _what?!_ ”

“Wait, wait, wait, back up a sec. Are you telling me that we could have just went out and grabbed this gremlin reject’s wife this whole time to get our answers? Geez, first Thanos has a retirement plan, now this guy of all people has a wife, what next?” Rhodey rambled off.

Nebula resisted rolling her eyes.

“His wife is currently in your medical unit, last I checked. She would be far more easily swayed than him. And he would follow her to the ends of the universe.”

Natasha perked up, looking thoughtful. “Ah. Well that explains a bit.” She leaned back onto the legs of her chair, feet propped up on the table. “But while we wait for Cap to finish cooking, why don’t you tell us everything we need to know about Thanos and his followers? We work as a team here, we all need to know everything you can give us.”

\-------

Corvus lost the will to count after ten days, as the realization that his wife was truly gone began to crush him with a weight greater than that of a black hole.

\-------

The next time Nebula came before him, she surprised him by throwing the switch to his cell. The bars retracted, but he stayed seated on the ratty bed they had supplied.

“I don’t know if anything I’ve said to you has worked. But I hope this does.”

Ah, so it was going to be one of those conversations. Where Nebula wove stories of her childhood on Sanctuary into her message. Tales of centuries gone by. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall. Days like this, he preferred to tune her out. At first, the memories had been somewhat pleasant, not that he would ever admit that to her. But very quickly, the absence of his fellows ate away at him. And he daren’t think deeper on that pain, or else he would think of her. He knew more than one thought of her would shatter him. And he absolutely, positively _refused_ to let them see him break.

It was this process of tuning Nebula out that caused him to miss the footsteps moving closer into his cell. It wasn’t until the bars on his cell were back up and Nebula’s voice was gone that he realized he was not alone.

“Certainly not the reception I was expecting, husband.”

\-------

Logically, Corvus knew that they had cameras on him. Logically, he knew that showing anything more than a smile to Proxima was dangerous, a show of his biggest weakness. Logically, he knew that his captors had known Proxima was alive the entire time, that Nebula had lied to him.

_Fuck logic_.

He wasn’t quite sure when he stood from his bed, wasn’t quite sure who reached for who first, but as Proxima’s arms looped under his, he latched onto her like she was the last thing in the universe and fell back to sit at the edge of his bed, pulling her down with him. He clutched at her, one hand pressing her into his chest as the other frantically ran through her hair. She let him do as he pleased, simply tightening her grip on him and wrapping her legs around his waist for balance as he perched on the bed.

Corvus shut his eyes tight, breathing in her scent, pressing his nose to her hair, combing through the beautiful cobalt strands that he never thought he’d see again, running fingers along ridges of her horn.

And when he spoke, his voice croaked, cracked from disuse, sounding more guttural than it had been in years.

“Midnight, my love, my Midnight.”

\-------

“I feel like we shouldn’t be watching this.”

Natasha and Steve turned away from the screen.

Nebula’s dark eyes were locked on the couple, staring past them as much as she was staring at them. It was so easy for her to hate, to blame them all; the negativity seeped into her with every new piece of machinery. But she recalled the patience Proxima had displayed when she had first learned to fight, the surprising gentleness from Cull as she borrowed books from his library. She thought of the wary concern the Maw had for her every time her circuitry would short after an upgrade, the sharp eyes of Corvus that would watch over her and Gamora from afar when they’d explore. And as she watched husband and wife embrace, she thought that maybe she didn’t hate them as much as she thought she did. And if they parted ways from Thanos, she might not even hate them at all.

\-------

“At some point, we slipped down the chess board. We were pawns, Corvus. We _are_ pawns. Thanos ran past the point of no return, and we all missed it. Ran over the edge with him blindly.”

“We all knew what we signed on for, Proxima.”

“But when did it turn from balance to indiscriminate slaughter?” Her bright eyes met his in a desperate plea. “Corvus, he murdered Gamora for a stone. He had no intention of preserving the Order.” Proxima’s voice cracked, wavering onto her next statement. “I miss what we were, but I cannot ignore that of which we are no longer. Thanos is not the same, _we_ are not the same. And I owe a debt that can only be repaid in one way.”

Corvus gazed at his wife. New scars were everywhere, like a pale web stretched across the expanse of her skin. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes pleading in an almost foreign way.

\-------

Proxima stalked out of her husband’s cell, her pace quick and determined. Corvus had not answered her, had shut her out, and she was in need of a long walk away from everyone, craving some semblance of privacy. She didn’t even spare a glance at the people sitting around the table, laser-focused on the door.

But it was not to be, as she heard Nebula trotting after her long before she saw her.

“Midnight!”

Proxima grit her teeth, dug her heel into the soft grass, and spun to face Nebula. “What?” She snapped.

Nebula strode about three paces from her before pausing. “I’d offer to talk, but that’s not your style of venting, is it?” She held her hands up, assuming a fighting stance.

\-------

One final kick landed Nebula on her stomach. She felt Proxima’s knees dig into the small of her back as she wrenched her metal side into an armlock, thanking whatever deities there were that Proxima didn’t have her full armor on.

“You still favor your hands too much.”

Proxima released her and, to Nebula’s surprise, held out a hand to help her up. Nebula grasped at her metallic forearm, a reminder that maybe they weren’t so different, as the older woman hauled her to her feet. They glanced over at the windows of the facility, seeing more than one face watching them warily.

Proxima scoffed, feeling angry and morose all at once. “They’ll never trust us. Even if Corvus would deliver Thanos’s head on a platter, it wouldn’t be enough.”

Nebula cocked her head. “You’re right, I don’t think you two could stay on Earth. I’m not sure I would at this point. But the ragtag group of morons that Gamora and I found, they’re good people.”

Nebula met Proxima’s eyes, neck craning ever so slightly to see the taller woman. It was a look that she and Gamora had often seen on Midnight’s face growing up, thoughtful but still standoffish. Nebula immediately felt transported back in time to her childhood self, watching the only maternal figure they had had. “Proxima… I had convinced myself for so many years that I hated you all, had managed to see you solely as extensions of my father. So much time wasted… And then Thanos took my sister as soon as I had truly found her. But I am glad to have you here now. And Corvus, even if he’s not particularly cooperative.”

“I do not want to disappoint you, Nebula. But I fear that I do not hate Thanos in the way you do. I am disappointed in myself for allowing things to spiral in the manner that they have. I am angry that the Order fell for him, knowing now that he could have changed that fate. But my feeling of betrayal is not the bone-deep loathing you possess. Enough to move against Thanos and try to correct the errors, try to figure out where the line was crossed, yes. But his end will not be by my spear. And while I owe a debt to you all for ensuring my survival, which I do intend to repay, Corvus has no such burden. He feels more deeply for Thanos than I; he is the first and most favored Dreadlord for a reason.”

\-------

_7 Days Later_

“You know, that really doesn’t ever get any less gross.”

Proxima shot a sideways look at Banner as she crossed the room. The plate in her head was bright red, the raw meat practically dripping in blood. The days spent in close proximity with these humans had created a sense of familiarity, still a bit distant but a comforting rapport nonetheless. But as she grew closer to the people who had brought her back from the edge of death, she felt her husband retreat from her. Each day was dividing them more and more, and Proxima has never imagined her heart could hurt as much as it did.

She had already admitted to herself that the decision to go against Thanos was painful. The Titan had given the Black Order a purpose, a home, and most importantly, each other. He had brought them together and allowed them to flourish. But she couldn’t ignore the ever-growing feeling in the back of her mind in the past century that they weren’t being selective enough with their culls. And then something inside of Thanos had snapped when Gamora left. He had become harsher, at times irrational. Nebula leaving shortly thereafter hastened his spiral. But his anger had never been explicitly directed at the Black Order, and Proxima carried on with an intentional ignorance.

It wasn’t until she rasped out her dying breaths that she realized she really was _just_ a pawn on Thanos’s chessboard. He wasn’t the same Titan she had pledged her loyalty to. And the blissful ignorance that their Order decided to live in, it had cost them everything.

_Almost_ everything.

And so steeling her normally unflappable nerves, she entered her husband’s cell.

After their reunion, he hadn’t spoken much. She wondered if she had gone in too quickly, too intensely on the anti-Thanos plea. But Corvus was the one person in the universe that she could bare her soul to, the one person who had seen every side of her, who knew all of her thoughts. If she couldn’t speak her mind at any time with him, with whom could she?

He just needed time to process, to figure it out in his own terms.

She hoped.

\-------

“I sparred with Nebula again. She’s quite the warrior now, those few years made a difference. Gave her the confidence she needed.”

Corvus glanced up at her, sitting across from him, but before she could even see his pupils, he turned his attention back to the meat on his plate.

“And the doctor, Banner, he’s lent me some of his books. Terrans have surprisingly active imaginations. I think Cull would have enjoyed their poets.”

He bit down the last of his meal and set his plate on the floor. Proxima swallowed heavily and leaned forward in her plastic chair. She had faced tens of thousands of beings in her life, and none had the ability to make her stomach flutter with this much anxiety. Except him.

He reached out a hand, his claws tracing up the underside of her hand until he had pushed her fingers up, pressing their palms together. The tip of his thumb lightly brushed against hers. His golden eyes were focused on where their skin met. “Many years ago, I vowed to protect you, to respect you, to cherish you. I have failed on two of those counts now.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she held silent and waited for him to continue.

“Your insights are as piercing as your spear, Midnight. You would not have reached your conclusions about Thanos quickly or carelessly. You are thoughtful, and you have always been honest with me. I am bound to you, not Thanos, and by forgetting that, I condemned you to death. And then I did not listen to you with as an open of a mind as you deserve.”

His grasp on her hand tightened like a vice, claws almost tearing into her skin. His eyes finally found her face, searching all of her features like he was seeing her for the first time.

“You are my wife. I will follow you to the ends of this universe. You should have never needed to ask. My lady Midnight, my place is always by your side, wherever you decide that may be. And I was wrong to ever doubt that.”

Proxima stared at him, a bit slackjawed, unable to form a sentence with all of the thoughts swarming her head.

“My love…?” A slight frown appeared on his face, unsure how to interpret her silence.

Finally, after a long moment, she reached out with her other hand, its cold metal threading into his cloak to pull him forward as she crushed her mouth against his.

\-------

“We need to get to Thanos quickly. He will have recovered, and soon he plans to eliminate the stones from existence.”

Corvus stood in the back corner of the room, his fingers lightly threaded through Proxima’s. Her head snapped to stare up at him in astonishment, as did everyone else in the room.

“What?”

“Can he even do that?”

Corvus exhaled slowly. “I do not know. But that is his plan, so he will try.” He stepped forward, releasing his wife’s hand as he moved further into the common room. “I was foolish to not have listened to Nebula and even more foolish to not have listened to Midnight. You all saved my wife, and for that, you have my word that I will lead you to Thanos.”

“You know where he is?”

All heads in the room turned to see Tony leaning against the doorway.

“Yes.”

\-------

They landed on the planet, the pristine green fields disrupted by the ship. The remaining Avengers de-boarded quickly. Nebula brought up the back of the group, stopping when she realized Corvus and Proxima weren’t following. She turned to face them, her eyes meeting Proxima’s.

“Be safe, my love. Please,” Corvus pleaded with his wife, still sitting in the co-pilot chair. He grasped desperately at her hand. “Please.”

Proxima knew that he was unhappy with his part in their plan, hated that he had to stay on the ship. He was still a wildcard in their eyes, and they did not trust him to be by their side in battle.

“I will come back to you, Corvus. Trust me.”

And with that, Corvus could only watch as she grabbed her spear and walked out of the jet with Nebula.

\-------

The fight against Thanos was unlike anything Proxima had done before. With the full power of the gauntlet, nothing was working; even weakened, Thanos was a one-man army. After what seemed like an eternity, Captain Marvel was able to land a punch, knocking Thanos off of his feet for a brief moment. Proxima leapt, throwing out her spear’s signature net.

With Thanos pinned to the ground, she took a quick glance. Black Widow was out cold, as was Rocket. The Hulk had been reduced to tiny diced bits beside them, a temporary victim to the Reality Stone, while Rhodey had been transformed into a small metal cube. Nebula was holding a massive hole in her side, her wiring sparking. Stark and Rogers were down, but conscious. Thor, Danvers, and herself. _Not good odds_. And then something sparked in her brain. Once he had tagged Nebula with the Power Stone, Thanos had stopped using the full potential of the stones. 

“He’s toying with us!”

A roar brought their attentions back to him. Proxima watched in horror as Thanos broke free of the weight of a star, her spear trembling in her hand as it reabsorbed the energy.

Again the Titan stood, glaring. An angry snort came from him. “My daughters’ betrayals hurt but were not as unexpected as they believed. But you, Proxima, you surprise me. And to use my own gift against me-”

“Enough talk!” Thor charged at Thanos like an angry bull.

The fight resumed. But now, Thanos was ready for it to be over. He batted away Stark like a gnat, swatted Thor like an errant fly. As they surrounded him, a wave of his arm knocked them all off their feet. Proxima yelled out as her spear careened down at her, impaling her shoulder and holding her down.

“I grow weary of this fight.”

He raised his arm, a victorious smile breaking out on his face. He pulled his fingers back, ready to snap them, all of his threats, out of existence. Proxima craned her neck, straining to keep him in her eyeline as she awaited the inevitable.

“No!”

This time when Thanos roared, it was of pain. His arm flopped onto the ground next to him. Corvus wore the coldest mask he could muster, but Proxima could see the horror swimming behind his eyes, almost in disbelief of what he’d just done.

Thanos’s eyes widened in shock, and Thor wasted no time in capitalizing on his distraction, shoving his axe into the Titan’s chest. Danvers rushed over to grab the severed arm. “You told me to go for the head, but the arm seems to work just as well, don’t you think?”

But Corvus wasn’t listening to Thor nor looking at Thanos. His focus was on Proxima, who was gasping in agony as the poison from her spear leached into her. He rushed over to her and ripped the weapon out. Cradling her, he watched as Thanos glared at him. Midnight was weakly patting his arm, muttering, “Get up.”

He spared a glance at her, taking in her labored breaths, seeing the web of new scars all over her skin, courtesy of the Thresher. All of this suffering she endured, all for the mad Titan who stood across from them. Slowly, Corvus stood, body shielding his wife as he gripped his glaive tighter.

“Traitors!” Thanos spat.

“You talk too much.” With a swing of his axe, Thor beheaded the Titan.

A few moments passed in silence. Natasha and Rocket were both groaning, coming back into consciousness, while Nebula propped herself against the stairs of Thanos’s hut, exposed circuitry still crackling and hindering her movement.

“Why aren’t they going back to normal?” Steve asked, worriedly looking at the Hulk and Rhodey.

“The stones, they’re still here even if Thanos isn’t. So the effects stand.” Corvus stated. He reached out to palm Proxima’s cheek before striding over to Captain Marvel. “Give it to me.”

\-------

“So you’re telling me that Corvus was able to hold the gauntlet long enough to mend Nebula and unravel the immediate effects of the stones, then he died, and then Dr. Banner put it on and the Hulk came out and they did some weird merging thing, and he reversed the snap?”

“Yes, for the tenth time on this trip.”

“It’s a cool story!”

“I am Groot!”

Proxima whipped her head towards the talking tree. “Language!” She scolded. Quill smiled, but it quickly slid off of his face.

“Hold on, approaching next jump!” Rocket called out.

The ship jerked violently, and with a yelp, Proxima was thrown off of her feet, flopping belly first to the floor. Quill landed on his back beside her.

“Idiots!” She and Nebula shouted up at Rocket and Corvus, perfectly in sync, as Drax and Mantis laughed raucously from their seats. Corvus turned in his seat to flash her a wicked grin.

“Like mother, like daughter.” Quill muttered.

“I did not birth her!”

“What!”

\-------

“One more jump to Vormir.”

Proxima glanced over at Corvus. The Guardians had decided to rest before they landed, so it was just the two of them piloting. His eyes lit up as she smiled softly at him.

“Do you really think it will work?” They swiveled around to face Peter.

“Can’t sleep?” Midnight asked. He shook his head in response. “Well, we return the stone, and we pray that the right Elder is watching.”

“And then, we leave with Gamora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Proxima’s dialogue/reasoning for leaving Thanos is inspired by the Black Order mini-series. Honestly, she’s ridiculously loyal and I don’t see her leaving Thanos in the comics, but hey, if you don’t give us ANY backstory to the Black Order in the movies (coughcough or even a name drop coughcough), who’s to say what’s going through her lil’ head?
> 
> -They totally nerfed the Black Order in the MCU, but in the comics she does casually survive/laugh off a fall from orbit/atmospheric entry, so I’d say there’s a pretty potent healing factor/durability there. We also see her take a spear through the shoulder from Shuri and a big ol’ whammy from Captain Marvel with literally no adverse effect.
> 
> -Also I have no idea how fast Corvus does his healing but let’s just say being impaled by his atom-splitting blade takes a hell of a lot more time than anything else… this is why it’s a fanfic AU I guess?
> 
> -The Challenger casually resurrects all of the Black Order for their No Surrender arc, so the ending was a stab at the idea that some cosmic deity out there might be able to bring back Gamora, because you know, comic logic (andijustwantahappyendingforthethanosbabies).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 616 Universe. Takes some ideas from the current Thanos miniseries. And since Supergiant, Corvus, and Black Dwarf have yet to appear there, I’m taking liberties and ignoring Supergiant/assuming she enters the picture later. Last in, first out (minus Swan). Poor girl.

Their first meeting was uneventful, as was their first conversation.

Their first mission together was a bust.

“I cannot believe that they just gave in like that. All of them!” Proxima exclaimed.

“Uncanny, indeed. And curious. I did not expect such… coordination.”

It was the first mission that Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight had been paired together on. Thanos had demanded a tribute from Aldegan, a small planet in the system Sanctuary was currently passing through. The planet, though tiny, was a high priority for the Magus, and Thanos was determined to rid of him of any able-bodied converts.

They had landed as usual, with Corvus addressing their leadership council. But when they came back a day later, to collect the tribute or to bathe the planet in its own blood, they had found no life forms.

Further exploration had revealed that every last humanoid being on the planet, all ages, had killed themselves.

“But that blind faith is likely what drew the Magus to them to begin with.” Proxima noted.

Corvus nodded.

Proxima observed her companion as he continued to pilot their ship towards the docking station in Sanctuary. They had worked alongside each other for almost two years at this point, but somehow had never been sent out alone. If the Dreadlords were not running solo missions, Corvus and Black Dwarf teamed together, the brothers working in tandem like a well-oiled machine, while Proxima and the Ebony Maw stayed a pair, their time in Butcher Squadron serving them well.

But this time around, the Maw was holed up in his lab, working on improvements for Gamora’s cybernetics, and Dwarf had been sent out on a supply run. Which had left her and Corvus to do what needed to be done.

Proxima enjoyed his companionship, and they had shared many a long conversation together. There were even a few times where she, drunk out of her wits from their card game, and Corvus would stay at the table long after the others went back to their racks. His regenerative abilities meant that he sobered up much more quickly than she did, but he never left her, even when the talk turned incoherent. They was a certain solidarity she felt with him, even stronger that the comforts of her friendship with the Maw.

But now, she was a buzzing ball of energy. She had been prepared for a planetary slaughter, and her adrenaline had yet to come down. So when they had finally docked on Sanctuary and Corvus had proposed a quick spar to burn some energy, she could hardly say no. Together, they walked off to report their findings to Thanos before making their way to one of the training areas.

\-------------

“No weapons, ten seconds on the floor or off of the mats to win. “

“As you wish, my lady Midnight.”

And with an unsettling grin on his face, he charged at her, shoulders down. She absorbed the tackle, rolling backwards to her feet with a huff of breath. They exchanged punches and kicks for a few moments, neither one landing a meaningful blow until Corvus’s sharp elbow cut into her cheek, just below the line of her helmet. Her head wretched violently to the side, but she had instinctually swung her opposite arm towards him, and the momentum of her body meant that her metallic forearm cuffed across his neck.

Sputtering and grasping at his throat, he bared his teeth and charged again. This time he went to the floor with her, rolling around and grappling until she managed to plant one foot on the ground, trapping his body between it and her opposite knee. His armor pressed into the inside of her thigh as he tried to move, seeking leverage to reverse the hold, and she wasted no time in bringing her fist down to his face, avoiding the sharp glaive fragments.

Proxima got two hits in before he managed to roll her off of him, throwing her away like a rag doll. They both stood, Proxima whisking away blood from the cut on her cheek while Corvus wiped at his mouth. With a yell, she lunged at him, catching him off-balance. Her fists and elbows landed blow after blow on his torso before he thrust a knee up into her stomach. She bent in half on the impact, and as he threw her across the room again, his forearm guard got caught on a horn, ripping the helmet off of her head.

She landed with a thud on her back, dazed by the whiplash that had come from her headgear’s sudden removal. And again, he was on her, giving her no time to catch her breath. Again, they rolled and grappled, and again she came out on top. This time, instead of raining punches onto him, she pressed her metal forearm into his throat, trying her hardest to choke him out. She felt him grasp and pull down at her arm, his hips moving under her, desperately seeking air and respite.

And this time when his armor poked into her thigh, she realized _it wasn’t his armor at all_.

In her moment of surprise, she had lessened the pressure on his throat, allowing him to escape her hold. Back on their feet, Corvus flew at her with another knee, and she blocked his flurry of kicks, moving backwards until her heel hit the wall. He used her backward momentum to pin her against the wall, catching a wrist in each hand before she could shift her weight into her punches.

They stood like that for a moment, Corvus pressing Proxima into the cold metal of the training room. Both of their chests heaved with exertion, and a light sheen of sweat covered Proxima, her cerulean hair sticking to her neck and forehead.

And she wasn’t sure what compelled her to act now of all times, but the next thing she knew, she was closing the small distance between them, smashing her mouth onto his. 

He was still against her, and she pulled away in surprise. Though his grip on her wrists loosened, he did not release her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, stung by what she perceived as rejection, but he searched her yearning eyes quickly, leaned forward, and captured her mouth again.

Their lips moved against each other, his sharp teeth slightly nicking into her lips as their tongues battled for dominance. She could taste a faint trace of metallic blood, the only remnants of the split lip she had given him moments before. A warm feeling spread into her stomach, and she desperately pressed her body against his, the ache between her legs growing incessantly. His hips bumped forward against her, and she moaned a little into his mouth.

He pulled back, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Corvus knocked her forehead gently against hers. “Mine or yours?” He growled.

“Yours,” she breathed back. “Unless you would like the Maw as an audience.”

\-------------

They stalked to his quarters from the training room, steps moving in tandem, thankfully meeting no one on their way. When they reached the uppermost deck, he grasped at her hand and pulled her to the left. She and Maw had rooms on the right wing, while he and Dwarf shared the opposite branch.

As soon as she stepped fully into his room, he slammed the door shut and latched the lock. Corvus pressed her up against the wall again, resuming their kiss. But Midnight quickly flipped them around, her hands making quick work of his forearm guards and the plating on his torso. Her lips frantically moved on his, feeling restless and wanting more and needing him. He let her do as she pleased, his hands joining hers to push his cloak off and over his head. A guttural, clicking growl bubbled in his throat as her hands explored, nails raking over his back, palms pressing across his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the sinewy muscle lying under the thin material of his shirt, the lean power he possessed. Proxima reached the divet of his hips, hesitating for a moment as his breath caught against her mouth. Then she continued, fingers dipping below the waistband of the pants he wore under his armor. He hissed as the cold metal of her one hand met his burning hot skin.

Before she could reach her target, he had gripped her around the middle and hauled her over to the bed. Her legs had instinctively wrapped around his lithe waist, arms clasping around his neck. As soon as her back hit the mattress, his lips were on hers again. He trailed down her neck, sucking at the juncture of her shoulder. Proxima could feel his teeth at her pulse point, his rough tongue playing on her skin, and her hips bucked involuntarily.

His claws tapped on her breastplate inquisitively before finding the closures on the side, working them open and unzipping her suit. Corvus peeled the material away from her, and then she was completely bare beneath him. One of his hands moved to her hip, the leathery skin delightfully rugged against her, while the other brushed over her breast, his mouth still working at her neck.

“Corvus,” she gasped out, body on fire as he teased. She desperately pressed her hips up against his, her wetness grinding onto the bulge in his pants.

His hands reached down to pin her hips to the bed, and she mewled in protest. And then she was gasping again, as he took a nipple into his mouth, lavishing attention on it, the texture of his tongue causing her to flush even wetter than before. Proxima reached for his back, growling slightly when her hand met fabric. She pulled his undershirt off of him, throwing the offending garment over the side of the bed, hands clawing into the sheets under her as Corvus switched his ministrations to her other breast.

There was something about him that was driving her out of her mind, and a sudden thought zipped through her mind; perhaps she had liked, had wanted, more than just his companionship. And her body was betraying her, reacting to every feather-light touch as if she were feeling it for the first time. 

Which is why, when Corvus reached down between them, fingers boldly knifing in between her legs while his mouth continued to worship her chest, she let out a moan so wanton she surprised herself. If anything, he seemed to grow more excited, with a growl low in his throat; Proxima felt the vibrations against her skin. She was overcome with a sudden impatience, snaking her hand down to cup him through the fabric of his pants. He was bigger than she anticipated, almost like there was an extra firmness to him.

And then she wasn’t sure what happened next and how, but then he was hovering, the tip of him pressed teasingly against her.

And then something even more surprising happened.

She heard herself beg. It was almost out-of-body, her mouth was moving but she was no longer in control. “ _Corvus_ ,” she hissed between her teeth, “please.”

He obliged.

Proxima gasped as he finally entered her, teeth clenching as her body struggled to accommodate his size. He slowly pushed into her warmth, languishing as he buried himself to the hilt. “Midnight,” he grunted as she mewled, back arching off of the bed.

And then they only knew each other.

\-------------

Proxima breathed in deeply, arm thrown across Corvus’s chest as he lay beside her, eyes closed and breathing even. She was exhausted, in the best of ways, but knew that she ought to make her way back to her own quarters. With a quick inhale, she pulled herself up, swinging her legs away to sit on the edge of the bed.

She slipped into her suit, gathering up her armor, before sneaking one last look at the sleeping form of Corvus. As quietly as she could, she snuck out and back to her own rooms.

\-------------

“You came back to your rooms awfully late last night, Proxima.”

“Speak plainly, Maw. It is too early for your games.” She snapped, hands clutching at the cup of tea like a lifeline. The buzz of the mess hall only added to her annoyance, as her head dully throbbed, a reminder of her lack of restful sleep.

Ebony Maw took a long sip of his own brew, his milky eyes locked onto her limpid ones. But before he could respond, a body approached their table. As the Maw turned away from her to speak with the worker in low tones, her eyes swept the room, taking in the scenes around her. The pounding in her head was receding as she finished her tea, tuning out the Maw’s conversation. She knew he would pry into her whereabouts; close friends, they were, but it truly was too early in her day to put up with his incessant need for knowing everything.

Corvus had yet to appear in the mess hall, she noted distractedly, as the Maw excused himself from the table.

\-------------

It transpired that she did not see him all that day or the next. A quick meeting with Thanos had revealed that he had been sent to help Black Dwarf with a particularly rambunctious group of rebels at a nearby trading port.

She felt the lack of his presence more keenly than she would care to admit, and she busied herself with various tasks throughout the days.

Maw cornered her again at dinner on the second day.

“It would be folly to continue on the path you are on.”

“I appreciate your concern, Maw, but forgive me for not immediately accepting your judgment. Need I remind you of your mutiny?”

“Which seems to have worked out well for _us_ , need _I_ remind _you_.”

Proxima rolled her eyes. “Maw, I am free to pursue whomever I please. And I am equally free to accept the advances of one pursuing me in return.”

Maw’s upper lip twitched.

\-------------

He came to her room in the late hours of night, and no sooner did he knock and ask her to join him were they rolling around on his bed together, clothing thrown haphazardly onto the floor in the eagerness.

Proxima’s eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a throaty moan as she finished for the third time that night. The sensations ripped through her, she felt herself contracting around Corvus, thighs trembling and breathy shaky. With a low growl, he followed her over the edge with one last violent thrust of his hips.

They slowly extricated themselves from one another, sweaty and tired and pleased. But as Proxima made a move to sit up, she felt his hand grasp at her metal one. Puzzled, she craned her neck around to look at him. 

Gently, with far more tenderness than she could have ever imagined Corvus Glaive to possess, he trailed his fingers up her arm, minding his claws as he brushed her long azure strands away from her face.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t quite a command, but it wasn’t quite a question either.

And maybe it was the uncertainty in his golden eyes, the fear of rejection swimming behind his lids, maybe it was the growing warmth in her chest as she received confirmation that his feelings matched hers, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion that had worn through her bones, a tiredness she had not known was there until he had returned to the ship. But whatever amalgamation of reasons that convinced her mattered little as she lay back down beside him.

Corvus pulled her leg over his waist, and she automatically moved into his warmth, tucking her head into his arm and lightly holding around his chest. Like clockwork, her eyes grew heavy as the rhythm of his breathing calmed her, lulling her to sleep. And right before she drifted off, she felt the lightest possible pressure as he kissed her forehead, the corners of her mouth turning up as realized how natural, how _right_ , it all felt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Proxima was sent to Ronan's ship with Gamora and Nebula?
> 
> A bit less Corvus/Proxima. More Proxima and Black Order family dynamics. But still Corvus/Proxima, trust me.

“Your sister plans to kill Thanos.”

“Don’t be silly, Nebula would never.”

Proxima hummed her disagreement. “Yes, she would. She resents him for what he’s done to her, the enhancements.”

“And how exactly do you know this, Proxima?”

“Beyond the fact that she has no poker face? The Maw saw it in her synaptic drive.” 

Of course, Gamora thought. She couldn’t stand the Ebony Maw, the thin, razor of a man whose silver tongue could bend any being to his whim. He and Proxima were like night and day, yet they shared a close friendship from their early years with Thanos. It never ceased to amaze her, and it made the two of them even more dangerous in her mind. Lost in thought, she almost missed Proxima’s next statement. “But Thanos thinks it’s just another mood, not a real threat.”

“And you, Proxima Midnight, what do you think?” Gamora asked, feigning interest in sharpening her blade.

_WHAM!_

Out of nowhere, Proxima’s spear slammed down, knocking the blade from her hand. Gamora slowly raised her eyes to meet Proxima’s, the whetstone still clutched in her left hand as her blade clattered to the floor.

“Don’t forget, child, we raised you just as much as Thanos. I know what you’re planning.”

Gamora’s breath caught in her throat as she focused on maintaining a blank face. But before she could continue the conversation, the ship’s intercom crackled, Korath’s voice cutting through the tight tension. “Gamora, Proxima, report to the piloting deck.”

Proxima scoffed at the order as Gamora bent down to retrieve her sword, hand faintly trembling.

\-----------

“Gamora convinced Ronan to let her go to Xandar alone. He would not listen when I suggested otherwise.”

“Do you think she will do it?”

“Gamora is the master’s daughter, it would be the highest betrayal.”

“She is adopted at best.”

Proxima snorted at the Maw’s response.

“And you wonder why they avoided you as children.” Corvus retorted.

“We might have to act quickly, particularly if the stone leaves this quadrant,” Cull postulated.

“And another concern -- Nebula is a loose cannon. But I will keep you all as up to date as possible, best I go.” Proxima nodded, her eyes sweeping over the three holographic faces in front of her. Cull gave a brief nod to them all before switching off his comm, off to finish the supply run he was tasked with.

“Tread carefully, Midnight. Ronan is prone to temper tantrums, though I’m sure you can fend for yourself.”

“Is that concern I sense, Maw?”

“It would be quite remiss of you to leave me with _this_ pair.” And with a slight smirk and incline of his head, the Maw waved a hand to end his link before Corvus could get a word in.

“Insufferable,” Corvus muttered, though not without some warmth.

“Play nice,” his wife chastised. “What have you two been tasked with?”

“Thanos has ordered the Maw to salvage whatever he can of the Chitauri fleet now that we’ve recovered their mothership’s drive. He’s been holed up in the labs for the past week or so. I have been running maintenance, training, nothing unusual. And missing you, of course, my love.”

“And I, you,” Proxima responded, granting Corvus a small smile before ending their connection.

\-----------

“How in the worlds did she manage to get herself thrown in the Kyln?!”

Proxima leaned back in her seat, watching Nebula stalk by like a caged animal. She found it curious, the hate and love Nebula held for her sister. She knew that Nebula despised Thanos for her cybernetics, and that she placed the blame on Gamora just as much. Yet she couldn’t help but look out for her. 

The two sisters often liked to think themselves smarter, sneakier than the Black Order. But they always conveniently forgot how much the Order was involved in their upbringing. It was easy for Proxima to see that, as much as Nebula thought she wanted to be the one to kill Gamora, she would never have it in her to strike the finishing blow.

And because of the pseudo-parenting role that was forced up her and the others, Proxima was _pissed_ that Gamora betrayed them. It pained her, and she knew it would cut Thanos even deeper.

A crackling filled the room as the projection comm lit up, Ronan strolling into the room. Nebula stood at attention, _like a good little soldier_ , Proxima thought. As Ronan passed her, throwing her a glare, she slowly lifted herself up. The Accuser didn’t like her presence on his ship, and he particularly liked it less than Nebula and Gamora. But before she could think of a witty remark ( _where was the Maw when you needed him?_ ), the Other appeared before them.

\-----------

The trip to the throne, hidden in the midst of the fleet and Sanctuary, was fraught with tension. She could sense Ronan fuming internally, could feel the trepidation rolling off of Nebula in waves. She even registered her own shoulders knotting with stress, the constant vigilance required of her on Ronan’s ship wearing on her. And to top it all off, she wouldn’t even be able to see any of her fellows. They had to be out on a raid or something if the Other was speaking for Thanos.

So when it came time to report to Thanos, she leaned against one of the many rocky structures, watching the scene play out in front of her. Half distracted, polishing the tines on her spear, she barely registered the Other’s increasingly loud pitch.

CRACK!

She glanced up to see the Other fall back, neck very clearly at the wrong angle.

Well, she didn’t like him much anyways. _Shame, Ronan beat Corvus to it_.

As Thanos ripped into Ronan, she strode over to the Other’s body, prodding it with her spear to ensure that he was truly dead. Insult the Kree Accuser, give a backhanded insult to Nebula, cue Nebula’s ire… it was the usual exchange, nothing new for her to care for.

“This is one fight you won’t win.” Nebula declared as she stomped her way back to the ship. With one last withering gaze at Thanos, Ronan turned to follow her.

The Titan reclined back on his rocky throne, a twisted smile on his face. Once she sensed Nebula and Ronan to be out of earshot, she approached him and bent the knee. “Sire.”

“Proxima, your report?”

She straightened up, shoulders finally relaxing as she stood with Thanos. Even though her compatriots, her best friend and brother-in-law and husband, were not here, just being back on Sanctuary in the presence of her master was enough to calm her frayed nerves.

“Your sources in the Kyln were correct, I believe. I had heavy suspicions of Gamora’s intent before she departed for Xandar but lacked proof. She seeks to sell the orb to the highest bidder… I do not think she even considered that there is a stone housed in it. And on the topic of your daughters, sire, Nebula is still looking for any excuse to kill you. I believe she would side with Ronan if he should turn against you.”

“This is not new news, Proxima, but nonetheless, a valuable update. Go, ensure the stone is brought to me. And if you can bring me my daughters, it would be an added bonus.”

\-----------

The Kyln was filthy. Proxima carefully stepped over limp bodies, occasionally thrusting her spear out to finish someone off. There would be no answers here, she knew. Ronan was a fool, but he was a meticulous one. The Accuser would leave no stone unturned in his hunt for the orb, so desperate was he for revenge. And so Proxima had let her guard down a bit and did what she was best at.

Indiscriminate slaughter.

She had been told many times, by a great many people, that she was an army unto herself. And she had proven it many more times over. The Kyln’s population provided her a perfect setting to remind Ronan of that fact.

By the time Nebula had made her way down to main floor, Proxima had already accumulated a pile of bodies at her feet, mindlessly polishing her spear’s blade.

“About time you showed up.”

\-----------

“Some imbecile called the ship. Says he and the orb are on Knowhere.”

“Oh, you are joking with me.” Proxima responded, shocked at how simple it might be to find the orb. “Is it a trap?”

“Ronan does not seem to think so.”

Proxima sat in silence during the rest of the ride, lost in thought. Corvus was the strategist; he could think of every possible scenario and plan through them, it was as easy as breathing for him. Her strength lay in battle, her ability to adapt quickly and effortlessly and fearlessly _in the moment_. Quite frankly, she was unsure of how to approach the upcoming confrontation. Her brow furrowed, her foot was tapping, and she ran her hand through her hair in exasperation.

A _click_ broke her train of thought, the door shutting behind Nebula as she exited the room.

With a sigh, Proxima tapped on her wrist comm, hoping at least one of the Order would answer.

She waited for a few seconds as the signals locked; Cull’s dot turned red shortly after, indicating he was preoccupied. A couple more seconds ticked by before the Maw answered her, and Corvus’s line continued to blink in silence.

“Midnight?”

“We’re en route to Knowhere. Someone called for Ronan specifically, claims he’s part of the escapee group from the Kyln.”

“Knowhere thrives on anarchy, it’ll be chaotic from the moment you land. Many, many variables…” Maw mused, long fingers steeping together under his chin in thought.

“Too many variables I fear. I am unsure…” She trailed off.

The Maw’s milky gaze met her own, his icy eyes searching her face. She knew she was a sight for sore eyes, dark circles sinking into her already too pale skin. The stress of this mission was unlike any other, the fear of losing Gamora _and_ Nebula eating away at all of them; she was just the one unlucky enough to be on the frontlines of it.

But she trusted the Maw to understand her uncertainty despite her lack of words. Their friendship was built on many centuries of camaraderie, and she knew her silence would speak louder than anything else.

He sighed. “I… Our priority must be the stone.”

Proxima let her eyes slide close as she leaned her head back against the wall. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

She had never really had a maternal instinct; she much preferred to be able to return children and never felt a need to seek them out to begin with. Thankfully, Corvus agreed. And then one day, the last day of the cull of Zen-Whoberi, Thanos came back with a little girl, dropped her at their befuddled feet, and left for two weeks to visit his garden.

It was how four of the most feared beings in the universe began to, however reluctantly, raise a child. Which, shortly thereafter, became two.

\-----------

Proxima hovered in the back of the pod ship, hopping off of the bridge after Nebula had made her way out.

The thin silt of Knowhere shifted beneath her boots. The last time she had been here was with Corvus. They had come to see if the Collector had the orb, which of course he did not, and yet they still managed to end up with an exotic animal throw for their floor. One never left Knowhere empty-handed.

She gazed at one of the brightly colored screens, tapping it gently with her finger. When it didn’t respond to her touch, she focused her attention back to Ronan. Nebula looked at her, cocking her head to silently question whether she would take a craft and pursue Gamora as well. Proxima gave a slight shake of her head in response.

Midnight started towards where she knew the Collector to be, where the purple flames still burned brightly. If Gamora did not previously know that the orb housed a stone, she most certainly did now. An errant pod flew overhead, the air around her horns rippling she threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the plasma blasts from Nebula’s chase. A cursory glance to her back revealed that Ronan had already handled the errant rebel, hauling the body into one of the spinal fluid vats.

A bright, explosive flash drew her eye to the opening near the top of Knowhere. But as she squinted, peering closely to decipher what had happened, she didn’t see Ronan’s hammer until it was too late. The Kree Accuser had taken a swing at her, socking her in the stomach. Her breath left her, and she felt at least two ribs crack as she was thrown backward. An ungraceful _oomph_ left her mouth as she slammed into a nearby wall, flopping to the ground, her spear just out of reach.

Grunting with effort, Proxima placed her hands on the ground, struggling to push herself up. She watched Ronan glance at the craft Nebula had just landed, a distant rumbling making itself known, before he turned back to her.

“I had debated whether it was worth it or not to kill you, Proxima Midnight. But now that I know that that orb houses an Infinity Stone… You are in my way.”

He stalked towards her, and she forced her body to move, to get up, but her muscles were slow to respond, her broken ribs sending needles through her.

“Ronan, it is done,” Nebula’s voice interrupted.

The rumbling that had started when Nebula landed had steadily grown louder as Ronan spoke, and as he moved in to land the finishing blow, the rockslide that the craft had triggered tumbled down. Chunks of ore and land fell around her, and Ronan jumped away from the debris. “I don’t have time for this,” he snarled. “But be sure, Proxima, first I will raze Xandar to the ground. And then, I am coming for Thanos. I promise you death.” He tilted his head up, a malicious grin stretching across his face. “That is, if this doesn’t kill you first.”

He smashed his hammer into the wall as Midnight finally managed to scramble to all fours. The crashing and rumbling of the falling rocks around her grew exponentially. All that she could see as the rocks pinned her down and buried her was Ronan’s shining black headdress as he boarded his pod.

\-----------

Corvus Glaive paced in front of the window of the Q-ship. His heavy boots echoed, his back pulled straighter than natural.

“If you’d like, I can find you one of those rodent wheels.”

He growled at his companion, a sharp clicking deep in his throat.

Ebony Maw sighed. “It’s one more jump, Corvus. Pacing won’t make it happen faster.”

Corvus didn’t answer. Instead, he stopped walking and rested his hands on the dash of the control board, eyes locked on the blinking light that had signaled emergency from Proxima’s comm.

\-----------

“Midnight, Proxima…”

Proxima’s eyes blinked open, groggy and crusted with dust. Her mouth was dry, and a metallic tinge coated her tongue. Her limbs felt like they were weighted down in heavy sand, and she couldn’t see anything.

With a jolt, she remembered what had happened, the rocks and mining debris and equipment pinning her to the ground, spear out of reach with no room to even wiggle. Her shattered ribs stabbed her with pain, blood caked around her mouth. She could feel a warm trickle of it around her horn. But she could breathe, even if each inhale racked through her body like an electric shock.

“-hear me, don’t move.”

Then the rubble was gone, and light streamed into her eyes.

And she screamed.

The numbing compression that the weight of the rocks had provided was gone, and even though pain clouded her mind, the warrior in her acknowledged that her ribs had punctured something or somethings internally, and all of that hit her in a wave of agony. A pair of hands, _oddly warm_ , reached under her arms. In her hazy mind, she had not registered that she knew those hands to be that of her husband, and as he pulled her away from the rockslide, her eyes rolled in the back of her head, her crushed body too much to bear.

\-----------

The next time Proxima awoke, she kept her eyes closed. She could hear muttered voices to her left, could feel the familiar cloth of the cot yielding to her bodyweight. Even the smell of the air was comforting. A clean, crisp linen from Maw, a light musk from Corvus.

“-will meet us outside of Xandar air space.”

“Should we really-“

Now certain of her surroundings, Proxima opened her eyes, pupils dilating to take in the dimmed room she lay in. Groaning, she propped herself up onto her elbows, body aching. Bandages were wrapped around her chest and ribs, and she recognized a pair of Corvus’s shorts on her bottom half. A quick survey showed that her accelerated healing had kicked in as expected. Beyond some nasty bruising on her stomach and residual soreness radiating out from her ribs, she was right as rain. Swinging her legs over the edge of the cot, she hopped down to the floor, bare feet padding along to the attached command room.

“Boys. Do shut up.”

Maw barely reacted to her presence, but she saw the small tug on the side of his mouth. A brief nod was exchanged between the longtime friends before he swept past her to the call center.

Corvus, on the other hand, gawked like an awkward adolescent. Maw’s movement seemed to have knocked him out of his stupor, and he stalked towards her like a predator about to jump on his prey.

His clawed hands, still encased in their uniform metal, cradled her cheeks, thumbs brushing under her horns, before he brought his mouth down to hers in a bruising kiss. Proxima drank him in, welcoming his familiar lips and tongue, reaching up to grasp his wrists.

When the need to breathe became too much, she pulled away, resting her forehead on his. “I was worried, my love. Never do that to me again, I beg of you,” he breathed, voice fading into a low growl with his plea.

Proxima stepped back, grasping his hands in hers. “Do not fear, husband. I have no plans of repeating that ordeal again.” Releasing one hand, she gently tugged, guiding him to the tiny room with the cot. Smiling coyly, she whispered, “I am here now. Can you be quick?”

\-----------

“You are insatiable,” Corvus murmured against her neck, letting out a quiet groan as Proxima removed his belt. She smirked, fingers working open the flaps of metallic armor, before throwing her head back against the wall as he suckled at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His claws ran down her body, ghosting over the curves of her breasts, still hidden under the bandages, before hooking into the pair of his shorts that she wore. With a muted snarl, he tore down the seam, his gloves shredding the fabric with ease, ripping them from her body.

As he pressed her further up the wall of the small room, wrapping one of her legs around his waist and grinding his still-clothed hips against her, Proxima let out a little moan. Quickly, he captured her lips, swallowing the rest of her noise as she finally freed him.

With his other hand, he pulled her other leg around him, thrusting into her with one smooth motion. As always, she was more than ready for him. And as he began to move against her, he spoke to her in between almost silent grunts, “Never again.”

Eyes squeezed shut, straining to keep herself quiet, she breathed back, “Never again, my love.”

One last rickety breath left Corvus as he bucked against her, sending her over the edge with him. For a moment, they stayed there, him holding her up against the wall, still joined, foreheads pressed together. Then they heard the telltale racket of Maw making his way back to the command room and slowly parted, Corvus quickly fixing his pants and armor and leaving the room as Proxima took a moment to clean herself up and find proper undergarments and her suit. It was time for the Black Order to visit Xandar.

\-----------

“People of Xandar, the time has come to rejoice and renounce--”

But before he could finish his sentence, a _whoosh_ of air flew past, throwing Ronan to the ground, hammer tossed away from his grasp.

Quill scrambled towards the stone embedded on the weapon, only to watch in confusion as the hammer lifted itself up and shot past Ronan. By his side in the rubble, Gamora’s face twisted as she recognized the spear that impaled the Accuser, blood staining the ground beneath him as he struggled under the weight of the star contained in the shining metal. “No,” she whispered, hand outstretched, helpless.

“Easier than baiting a chattering hogmonkey.” Ebony Maw drawled, arm lazily waving the hammer over to Corvus, who was immediately beamed back into the Q-ship by a piloting Cull.

Gamora looked on as Maw batted a charging Drax and Rocket away like fleas. The crunching of gravel sounded beside her, and she didn’t even have to turn her head to recognize Proxima’s gait.

“Thanos sends his regards, Accuser filth.” She spat before ripping the spear from Ronan’s chest with a cringe-worthy _squelch_. A quick turn of the spear in her practiced wrist brought the bladed end at his head, cleaving it clean from his shoulders.

Bones aching, Gamora rolled over, slowly pulling herself to her hands and knees as her muscles screamed in protest. She stared up at Proxima, who said nothing, eyes narrowed in disdain, and dare Gamora imagine, _hurt_. The corner of Midnight’s mouth twisted into a sneer, and with her metallic forearm she smacked the green woman across the face, sending Gamora sprawling onto the ground.

And with a huff, she marched over to the Maw before they both disappeared in a beam of neon blue, en route to deliver the first Infinity Stone to the Mad Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Figured you'd pass the stone off to Corvus, cause even if he gets ripped to shreds by it... it'll all be good. Helluva failsafe for Thanos, really.
> 
> \--Also let's be real, Corvus and Maw would totally plan to let Ronan and Xandar rip each other to shreds before being like, "oh hi, let me help you with that" after all the hard work was done.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where Gamora’s “pelvic sorcery” comment originates from in Guardians Vol 1, ie, Corvus and Proxima have a hard time keeping it in their pants and the presence of children does not change that. Just a silly little plot bunny to get things writing again, semi in-character.

“Gods, _yes._ ”

Proxima threw her head back against the crate she was pinned upon, nails digging into the lithe shoulders of her husband as he slammed into her.

The dull thumping of her back on the metal crate echoed lightly throughout the cargo hold, the rhythmic sound only interrupted by the couple’s quiet moans. Corvus became slightly erratic in his thrusts, going fast and hard into her before falling over the edge. A few more pumps of his hips, gloved fingers skating down to the juncture of their bodies to help, brought his wife with him. Satisfied, he knocked his forehead lightly against her own, holding Proxima up as her legs trembled around his waist.

“Proxima! Proxima! You’re back! Guess what, guess what!”

Their eyes, lazy and half-lidded with contentment, shot open. Frantically, Corvus pulled away from his wife, claws fumbling to tuck himself away and readjust his armor as Proxima shimmied her suit back in place. She had barely finished the zipper when the flood lights of the cargo bay flashed on, casting away the darkness that had just surrounded them.

Squinting against the harsh fluorescent beams, Proxima grumbled out an answer. “What is it, Gamora?”

“Father made me my own sword!” A tiny pattering of feet sounded to their left, hurrying down the main pathway. The green child slid to a halt, peering down their row of crates. “Oh, hi Corvus. Why are you all the way back there?”

Proxima glanced at Corvus, their gazes crossing for a split second before he turned to Gamora. “Midnight used up more rations than anticipated on her trip. Just checking that we had enough to replenish them without a supply run,” he smoothly lied.

Gamora, apparently accepting his answer, gave a shrug, the kind that children do when they’re only listening due to some ingrained politeness. “Come on, come on, I’ve showed everyone else already, you have to see it!”

And she ran back into the bowels of Sanctuary, Corvus and Proxima trailing bemusedly behind.

\----------

“Do you think Cull would help us?”

“Maybe, but do you really think he would know about _that_?”

“I don’t wanna go to the med bay!”

“What about the Maw?”

“Ew, no, he’ll pull out the needles!”

“Why don’t you want to ask Proxima, she’ll definitely know!”

“I didn’t want to bother her again. And Corvus changed their passcode the other day,” Gamora grumbled. The preteen crossed her arms, brow furrowed.

“Gamora!” Nebula continued their whispered conversation. “I can try to get in?”

Gamora had been training for a few years now, but Nebula, two years younger and still relatively new to Sanctuary, had just started. She had taken to mechanics more quickly than Gamora could ever dream, working closely with the Maw to learn the ship’s systems.

The two sisters shared a glance before hopping out of their bunks, padding quietly down the corridors toward Corvus and Proxima’s quarters. As they approached the door, they could make out a subtle creaking, like one of the adults was jumping on the bed. The two sisters shared a confused glance; neither one could imagine that scene.

“Maybe something’s wrong?” Nebula whispered, her large black eyes wide with concern.

“Just open the door, then we can help,” Gamora hissed back.

Nebula clumsily opened the metal container attached to her belt, pulling out a small tool. She fumbled attaching it to the lock pad, haste making her jumpy.

A low groan reverberated through the room, and then they heard a muffled shriek, surely from Proxima. The siblings turned to each other, eyes wide and alight with fear. “Hurry!”

Nebula gnawed at her lip, twisting and turning her tool until the reset hologram popped up. She quickly typed out a new code and had the door sliding open seconds later.

“Proxima! Are you okay?” Gamora shouted, bursting into the quarters. She squinted hard, eyes adjusting from the harsh light of the hallway to the pitch darkness of the room.

The woman in question was desperately scrambling to get off of her husband, her legs catching in the sheets as she tried to un-straddle his waist. Corvus pushed himself up, bumping her off of him, and she landed beside him with an ungraceful thud. Thankfully, her husband had already drawn the blankets over his lower half, and she pulled the remaining covers over her chest.

Nebula peered into the room, slipping in behind Gamora, shutting the door behind her and activating the lights.

“Is there something wrong, you two?” Corvus growled, sitting up against the headboard. Proxima was slumped beside him, blanket drawn up almost over her eyes in exasperation.

\----------

Proxima slashed down with her spear, its beam cutting through the line of soldiers in front of her. Beside her, the Maw waved his hands, tossing their opposition around like flies, lobbing the occasional body towards Cull, who promptly out swung his hammer. The army that had been awaiting them was now almost obliterated.

“A foolish endeavor, and it makes their punishment all the worse.” The Maw called out to her with a wry smirk.

Caught up in the adrenaline from battle, she let out a full-throated laugh in response. There were just a few dozen left. Sensing a pause, she turned to watch Corvus, who was responsible for the girls. Gamora and Nebula circled the soldier he had corralled for them, pouncing with vicious intent and almost-perfect technique. A lazy swipe of his glaive here, a thrust there, kept any threats away as their wards learned the ways of balance.

She glanced toward their breaching ships, where Thanos was now making his way out to the field. She couldn’t hear what he said to Corvus, but her husband nodded, leaving the girls with the Titan as he made his way over to her.

A twitch of her head, and then they were both sprinting towards Cull, ready to join him to finish off the last squadron of troops.

It felt like mere seconds, and then the Order was surrounded by dead bodies, Cull and the Maw already making their way towards the city center with Thanos.

She felt her husband thread his fingers into her hair and yank back hard, his mouth on hers, hot and needy as his lips moved against her own. She moaned into him, hips grinding onto him, the battle too powerful of an aphrodisiac for them both.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, heat already pooling between her legs.

“He best make this quick,” Corvus growled against her neck.

The couple took a moment to compose themselves before turning to follow their allies, failing to notice how a flustered green teenager was trailing slightly behind the others.

\----------

They had a private room with a perfectly lovely bed, but Proxima suspected that Corvus enjoyed the risk of being walked in on.

Hence why she found herself against the cool metal of a crate in a storage room, yet again.

Of course, it could’ve also been due to the fact that she was raging through the compound moments prior, striking out at anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in her way.

Corvus hadn’t pulled his wife aside with the intent of sex. But as he had snatched her wrist and, using considerable strength, dragged her into the storage unit, she hadn’t stopped thrashing. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened on her outing, but he knew that she needed to calm down _quickly_ , before Thanos called for her report.

So he did the only thing he could think of to give her pause, smashing his lips onto hers.

And neither one of them stopped, which is why he had her pinned onto the crate, hips thrusting to meet hers.

Proxima felt the claws of his gloves dig into her thighs, almost to the point of pain. The metal of his armor was scraping the inside of her legs as he moved, bringing her back to reality. A light _clank_ snapped her attention.

“Stop!” She swatted at him.

Paused, they could hear the telltale echo of footsteps running down the hallway. Corvus sniffed, trying to track the scent of their observer through the musk of Midnight.

Slowly, he began to rock back into her. “Just Gamora,” he breathed into her neck.

\----------

“I think you’ve scarred them.”

“As if your explanation of intercourse didn’t.” Proxima snapped back at the Maw.

“My discussion was purely theoretical. You made it reality.”

Midnight rolled her eyes. “So what, the girls have seen more of Corvus than they would have cared to. It was his rear, no harm done. They’ve walked in on us more times than they’ve realized. Of course,” she paused to give her friend a pointed look, “now they’ll have figured out _what_ all the previous times were actually, thanks to you.”

They let the silence sit between them, hearing the distant echoes of Corvus and Cull’s sparring down the hall. A _thumping_ sound grew louder from the opposite end of the hallway. Proxima and Maw stood at attention, moving out from behind their tea table to greet Thanos.

_They cannot stay sheltered forever_ , the Maw projected into her head. It lay heavy in her mind; there was much more than _sex_ in his comment.

“Sire,” he intoned as Midnight inclined her head.

“I want you to take Gamora and Nebula on your next scouting trip. It’s time they learned something that this ship cannot provide.”

“Of course, sir.”

\----------

The girls were quiet as they disembarked from their Q-ship, staying a few paces behind Proxima and the Maw. They didn’t know what exactly had happened, but on their return from the exoplanet they had been scouting, the Maw said something to Proxima and she had snapped.

Gamora could feel the irritation seeping out of the blue woman’s pores. She and Nebula shared a cautious glance. Even as they approached the cusp of adulthood, neither was yet willing to go toe-to-toe with their mentors… particularly when one was in so clearly a foul mood.

“Go with the Maw and report to Thanos.” And with that, Midnight stalked off down the opposite hallway.

The Maw rolled his eyes in return.

\----------

“I wonder what exactly the Maw said…” Nebula mused as the sisters walked back to their quarters.

Gamora scoffed. “Who knows, he always manages to push everyone’s buttons just so.” She was flipping her dagger back and forth in her hand as they went.

Nebula rolled her eyes. “Way to state the obvious,” she grumbled. “Still, it is unlike him to choose to push Proxima’s buttons, of all people. I could almost taste her fury. Bet you twenty units she’s killed a guard already.”

They turned corner, passing an open storeroom on their trek down the hall.

A clattering down made them double back, weapons readied.

Once their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and they realized it was Corvus and Proxima, they hurried away, feeling like little children again.

Without another word, the sisters went to their respective quarters, cheeks stained dark in embarrassment.

Later, when Gamora had settled into her bed, she felt a strange confusion. What the Maw had explained to them was so clinical, and it most definitely did not describe what they had glimpsed from their married mentors over the years…

In the fleeting thoughts before she succumbed to sleep, she could only think of how odd it was that simple hip movements could tamper Proxima’s ire so quickly…

_Like magic…._

_Pelvic sorcery._


End file.
